


The Slytherin Way

by theheadgirl



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, I Don't Even Know, M/M, Shameless Smut, nothing needs a hogwarts au more than star trek amirite, shagging in the quidditch shed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-20
Updated: 2013-05-20
Packaged: 2017-12-12 11:36:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/811167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theheadgirl/pseuds/theheadgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim knows all the best places in the castle to fool around.  Leonard is doubtful.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Slytherin Way

As it so happens, the Quidditch sheds are an excellent place for an afternoon assignation. This mostly has to do with the fact that everyone assumes that everyone else is shagging in there, so they avoid it like the plague and seek out less (they think) obvious places, like linen closets, empty classrooms, the back of the library, and even the dormitories. This leaves the equipment shed delightfully empty, which is - as it so happens - exactly the way Jim Kirk wants it. He swaggers in like he owns the place, then turns to flash that hundred-watt grin at the Ravenclaw reluctantly following him, eyebrows drawn down over dark eyes, arms crossed tightly.

"Jim Kirk's amazing love nest," he announces, spreading his arms, and still grinning so widely it looks like a stiff breeze might take the top of his head off. "Impressive, huh?"

"It smells like socks," Leonard replies, nose wrinkling in distaste. "Old, dirty socks." His Irish lilt always comes on more strongly when he's annoyed (which is most of the time), and it makes Jim want to snog the shamrocks out of him. "It can't be so great as a love nest if people are too scared to take off their clothes. God knows what you'd catch rolling around in here arse naked."

"You've been in here a thousand times," Jim points out, enthusiasm never flagging. "Have you ever caught anything?"

"I'm normally in here wearing a Quidditch uniform," Leonard growls in response. "Which - and this bit is important, listen up - involves _clothes._ "

"You are," Jim announces, stopping stock-still and spinning on one foot, grabbing Leonard's tie, "such a buzzkill, Bones." And then he twists that blue and bronze length of silk around his fist, pulling the dark-haired boy off-balance, and kisses him. It's cheap, but it's an unquestionably effective way to get Leonard to shut up.

Jim's grip on Leonard's tie doesn't loosen as Leonard begins to react to the kiss, fingers threading through the short wheat-gold hair while his other hand hooks around the back of his neck. The kiss is rough, teeth and tongues and sharp sucks coming into play, but for all the roughness there's an element of softness, fondness underlying it all. There's familiarity, a knowledge of boundaries and limits that doesn't need to be spoken, a comfort that comes from knowing a person almost better than you know yourself.

It isn't long before the struggle for dominance begins. This, perhaps, is the one part of this - whatever it is (relationship, friendship with benefits, mutually excellent arrangement) that isn't a constant. Physically, both boys are fairly evenly matched: Leonard is taller and broader, but Jim is scrappier and not afraid to fight dirty.

Like, for instance, now, when he shoves a thigh between Leonard's legs, rubbing it against the erection rapidly swelling inside his perfectly pressed uniform trousers. Leonard bucks, which gives Jim the advantage this time, using the leverage to push Leonard against the wall of the shed with an equipment-shaking _thud_.

"Cheat," the Ravenclaw spits as Jim breaks the kiss and lips his way along the line of his neck, nosing under the collar of his shirt.

"Opportunistic," Jim corrects him with a grin that's all teeth and dimple. "There's a difference."

"Semantics," Leonard retorts, though his argument is pretty effectively undercut by the way he's still rocking his hips against Jim's thigh.

"Nope." The blond's eyes glitter like sunshine off the lake. "Just the Slytherin way of doing things. If an opportunity presents itself, you take it." Leonard opens his mouth to protest, but Jim railroads over him with, "Or, if no opportunity is forthcoming, you make one."

"Bloody snakes," Leonard sneers, but there's no malice in his tone.

Jim lifts his eyebrows, pressing his thigh more firmly to Leonard's crotch, making him squawk and grab at Jim. "Oh, come on, Bones. If we were doing this the Ravenclaw way, we'd still be in the library debating the merits of frottage versus manual sex." He makes a rude noise. " _Lame._ "

"You weren't complaining about the Ravenclaw way last week in the broom closet," Leonard points out tartly.

"It's got its uses," Jim admits, then grins, a little wild and dangerous, and it makes Leonard feel like his spine is about to melt. "But this is way more fun."

They go in mutually for another kiss then, heated and laden with lust and hormones. Leonard's teeth roll Jim's lower lip between them, raking against it just hard enough to make Jim moan into Leonard's mouth. The Slytherin's thigh rocks against Leonard's throbbing erection, lacking the careful precision of his technique but making up for it with enthusiasm. Leonard hardly seems to mind, moving against the solid muscle with increasingly breathless moans that are beginning to edge into 'whimper' territory.

"Jim," he gasps brokenly when they break the kiss for air. "Merlin's balls, _Jim_ \- "

That wild wicked grin returns, and Jim moves back into the kiss, mouth wide and hungry, tongue tangling with Leonard's while one hand moves around and, unerringly, clamps on one firm ass cheek. He gives it a moment, feels the delicious shudder that runs through the other boy's body, then _squeezes._ It's not a gentle one, either, but one that will leave bright red lozenge-shaped marks on the sensitive skin, ones that might darken into bruises if he's lucky.

The reaction is unmistakable, and thoroughly satisfying. Leonard wracks, and makes a noise into Jim's mouth that is bright and animal and not one that anyone would ever imagine coming from surly, taciturn Leonard McCoy. A moment later, there's a familiar pulsing of warmth against Jim's thigh, and he slumps down, boneless and breathless, his grip on Jim's neck and hair slowly loosening. 

"Holy shit, Bones," Jim says after a moment, unable to fight back a huge grin, "that was the hottest thing I've seen all day."

Leonard is too sated to get up a proper glare, and between his half-lidded eyes and the flush across his cheeks, he ends up with more of a faintly annoyed come-hither stare than anything truly menacing. 

"Shut up," he advises, and then his hand traces along Jim's neck, brushing against the faint red marks he's left above the collar of the Slytherin's shirt. Jim breathes in softly and his golden lashes flutter slightly. Leonard lets his fingers continue downward, pushing under the flap of his jacket to flick at the stiff nub of a nipple, and Jim's hips twitch forward. The fingers only remain there for a moment or two before continuing down, finally cleaving to the bulge stretching out the front of Jim's trousers. Leonard's fingers fit to it carefully, and Jim moans as the dark-haired boy goes in for another kiss.

The process is painstaking at first. Leonard's grip is loose at the base of the shaft, then slowly tightens as he comes to the head, pressing against it with the ball of his hand in a way that makes Jim make a strangled sort of noise into the kiss. The Ravenclaw's pace starts off slow, but speeds up as Jim becomes more and more undone, his moans growing deeper, louder, to the point where Leonard hisses "dammit, Jim, shut the hell up," but Jim isn't listening. When he finally comes, it's with a shout that Leonard swears must be audible in the castle. He shudders, slumping against Leonard, pressing him back against the wall, and that slightly unhinged grin has returned.

"See, Bones?" he says, words slightly slurred, as smug as the cat that got the canary. "No diseases. Didn't even have to take our trousers off."

"Yeah, if you don't mind the mess," Leonard complains, even as he pushes Jim back enough to Scour them both clean, ridding any physical evidence of their encounter (well, aside from the tell-tale marks on Jim's neck, but he likes to let those heal naturally). 

"Sometimes," Jim muses, "I think you're only complaining to hear yourself talk. In fact, I think - " 

His pronouncement is cut off as Leonard grabs him by the tie, pulls him forward, and kisses him soundly.

"I think," he says, releasing him, "that you talk too much." And with that, he slides out from between Jim and the wall, stalking to the door. Jim grins as he ambles after, and then something occurs to him.

"So, Bones - isn't that better than doing things the Ravenclaw way?"

Leonard rolls his eyes. "Nope."

 

Jim gets no more explanation on the matter until the next morning, when he notices his oatmeal tastes a little funny, but not enough to say anything. He bumps into Leonard on the way out of the Great Hall, and the Ravenclaw's only greeting is a grunt and a piece of paper pushed into his hand. Jim waits until he can duck into a nearby niche to open the note. It reads, in Leonard's barely legible scrawl,

_Ravenclaws are in it for the long game. Hope you liked the love potion in your oatmeal._

_Jackass._

As pink begins to tint his vision, and vague thoughts of flowers and long walks on the beach populate his brain, Jim can't help but think that Slytherins could learn a lesson or two from Ravenclaws. 

But right now, he has a reservation to make at Madam Puddifoot's.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to all the Kirks in my life. You guys are all amazing. ♥
> 
> And yes, the first thing I write in the fandom is a Hogwarts AU, because that's how I roll.


End file.
